


The Tutor

by lilbuns



Category: Dream Team - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, dreamnotfound - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crushes, Happy Ending, M/M, Tutor! George, a whole lot of statistics, basically just dream simping, dream centric, dreamnotfound - freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 06:40:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29870676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilbuns/pseuds/lilbuns
Summary: “Were you free to start statistics help after school today?”
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 151
Collections: MCYT





	The Tutor

**Author's Note:**

> my personal favorite :) be nice to her i thrive off of high school au dream team

“Dream,” the teacher sighed. He rubbed his sweaty hands on his slacks and leaned over the desk shortly, sliding the marked up exam towards Dream. “Another F.”

Dream stared blankly at the big, red F plastered on the top of the page. Dream was a nice guy, he really was. Dream drove his sister to school, washed the dishes when asked, and surprised his friends with coffee. Dream was a nice guy, so it came as a shock when he snarkily replied, “Okay? Sorry?”

Mr. Phil’s eyebrows raised. “This is the third exam in a row.”

“Can you do a retake?”

“I’ve done retakes for you the past two. They’re not helping.” Dream’s shoulders dropped, and Mr. Phil filled their quiet silence, AC of the classroom running in the back wildly, “I’ve been thinking of possible solutions. I really want to help you, Dream.”

Dream turned the failed statistics test upside down to stop the shame rising in his stomach. “What?” He mumbled. God, his parents were going to kill him.

“Here’s some options for you,” the teacher said, sliding a new piece of paper to Dream with neat handwriting. It dawned on Dream that his statistics teacher had already compiled a list of things to help him before asking Dream to stay after class.

Work with Mr. Phil alone  
Extra assignments  
Staying late  
Tutor

The young blonde harshly looked up. “These are all so out of line!”

“Dream,” Phil warned. “It’s either this or fail my class.”

Dream glared down at the small paper. “Who’s the tutor? Do I know them?”

“His name is George,” he replied easily, beginning to type an email on his computer. “Very skillful. Earned the best grade in my class last year. Could be helpful to learn from another highschooler instead of a grumpy, old teacher,” he tried to tease, winking jokingly.

George? George as in the cute library’s assistant? George as in the cute senior who always had his nose pushed close to his computer and fingers working quick on a calculator? Dream remembered countless days of the fall semester spending his open periods in the library pretending to do English homework. If he watched George make copies for the librarian, huffing to himself slightly, then so what?

Now, it was spring semester, and George was close to graduating, moving Dream into senior year. Dream would never speak to him, only admire the boy a grade higher than him. He was alright with the feeling of an unrequited crush- hell, Dream didn’t even think George liked boys.

“How do you know he’ll agree?” Dream asked, slightly more embarrassed now.

The blonde teacher shrugged from his side of the desk, moving his hands to fix his tie. “He’s always been a good kid. Already agreed when he left my class he would help me out whenever I needed.”

“This isn’t helping you out. It’s helping me out.”

Phil chortled, clicking his tongue. “Ah, yes, Dream.” His fingers moved back to the keyboard, typing wildly. “But by helping you out, he’s helping me out, as well.”

Dream fiddled with the small, crinkled piece of paper nervously. “Okay, I’ll take George then.” That was a sentence he never pictured himself saying.

Phil smiled brightly. “Perfect, I’ll have him find you tomorrow to get started. We’ll check back after your next test and see if you improved.”

The teenage boy nodded and bid his goodbye, huffing and getting out of the school as fast as he could. That was a nightmare.

\---

Dream never cared about how he dressed each day. Sweatshirts, worn out jeans, and shoes with holes often made an appearance outside of the house. However, he had an extra pep in his step with a cuff to his ripped jeans when he walked into school the next morning.

It was the longest Dream had ever taken to get ready.

“Mom,” Dream whined, digging through his closet filled with bland shirts. He pulled out a button up with a collar. Too formal. Black t-shirt? Too laid back. An easy tank top? That makes him look like a douche. What about a long sleeve? Dream could work with that. Yellow? Too cheery. Grey? Trying too hard. Black? Not trying hard enough. Where was the white one?

His mother called from outside the hall into the kitchen, “Yes?”

“Where’s my white long sleeve?”

Her footsteps padded on the hardwood floor before she peeked around in his room, eyes widening at the mess of clothes scattering the floor. “God, Dream! What are you doing in here?”

His bright eyes were wild when he turned to her, whining even louder, “Stop laughing, seriously. Where is the white long sleeve?”

She shrugged, stifling further laughs. “Maybe the wash.”

“I need it today!” He urged, turning back to dig through the long sleeves he already threw on the ground.

“What’s today?”

Suddenly, the adolescent’s face flushed. “Nothing,” he mumbled, poking at the pair of jeans he wanted to wear laying on the bed. He was very still after that, taking a step back at his embarrassing actions.

“Is it a girl?” She teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

“No!” He groaned. No, no, no. It’s not.

“I think my baby has a crush,” she continued to relentlessly tease, wrapping his neck in her hold and scattering quick kisses on his face. Dream complained and begged her to stop, but he secretly loved when she did this.

His mother crossed her arms with a smirk and started pushing lightly through the closet. She hummed and pulled out a comfortable college sweatshirt from a state he has never even been to. “What about this?”

“That’s too casual.”

“Girls love sweatshirts, especially when it’s a high class college.”

He shyly took the sweatshirt and pulled it over his head. “Really?”

His mother, in all of her morning glory, pinched his cheek and ruffled his hair. “Yes!” Dream looked at himself in his mirror and twisted his body, trying out the sweatshirt paired with the jeans. “You look perfect, now go get her.”

Him. Not her- him.

Hours later, Dream stood halfway into his school day. “Are you excited for today?” Sapnap, Dream’s best friend, teased at the beginning of lunch. He took the spoon and added strawberries on an empty section of his tray.

Dream tonged carrots on his tray, moving forwards. “Shut up.”

Sapnap, however, did not shut up. “Dude, come on. It’s been, like, five months now. We’re going to be seniors in two months. At least make a move.” He paused when a lunch lady scooped mashed potatoes and gravy for him, thanking her, before turning his attention back to Dream. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Everything,” Dream groaned after accepting the mashed potatoes, leaving out the gravy. “I’ll still have to see him, maybe even be tutored by him.” Dream’s eyes wandered as they began walking to the lunch table filled with their friends. He could already see Punz wrapped in a headlock by Sam, and he huffed out.

Sapnap shrugged. “Find another tutor if it goes to shit.”

“Language,” the nearby cafeteria monitor warned. How was he always there whenever Sapnap swore? A smaller built man with short hair raised his eyebrow at the two juniors, hands intertwined at his back.

“Sorry, my bad,” Sapnap flashed a cheery smile and turned back to Dream, muttering, “Asshole.”

“Dude!” Dream laughed, eyes crinkling shut for a moment. He looked in the corner, focusing his gaze on George’s lunch table. He could get on his knees and pray from the way he caught the last second of George leaning back, laughing with his head tilted back.

If Dream was confident, he would approach the table and introduce himself. He would reach out his hand and say, “Hey, I’m Dream, you’re my tutor?” Dream would sit down with George and the seniors he sat with everyday, Alex and Karl, and he would make himself right at home.

Dream sat down next to Sam.

“Hey, buddy,” Sam smiled brightly, stealing a fry from Dream’s tray. “How goes it?”

“Dream is getting tutored by George,” Sapnap spilled before Dream could even open his mouth. When the entire table erupted into noise, Dream’s hands over his bright, red face, Sapnap slammed his face against the table. “Dreamie’s got a boyfriendddd,” he teased.

Punz threw a loose grape at Dream from across the table, who caught it in his mouth. “How did you manage to do that?”

Dream looked down and forked at his mashed potatoes. His face burned, and he looked back up at the seniors across the lunchroom. This time, George wasn’t there, and it was only Karl and Alex on the verge of starting a food fight within themselves. With furrowed brows, Dream whipped his head around the lunchroom to find George, hearing his friends start muttering his name and choosing to ignore them.

“Dream!” Sapnap finally slapped his arm.

When Dream focused again, his eyes widened at George standing directly behind him. Oh.

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the-

“Uh, hey?” Dream stuttered, body fully turned around now. His lunch table was completely all silent, all watching the senior stand behind Dream.

George smiled smally, and Dream saw stars. The older boy shoved a hand in the pocket of his dark jeans easily and cocked his head to the side. “Hey, are you Dream?” Dream nodded, not trusting his words, and George continued, “Okay, good. I was worried I had the wrong person. I’m George.”

“Hi.”

George laughed quietly. “Hey. Can I sit for a second?”

“Yeah, of course,” Sapnap said and moved over next to Punz, and George sat down in the middle of Dream and Sapnap, thanking him. Sam spoke quietly to the other two boys about his literature homework, trying to cut the tension easily.

“Were you free to start statistics help after school today?”

Fuck, now Dream had to talk. “Um, yeah.” There was a beat of silence. Dream panicked. Why was George looking at him with a teasing glint in his eyes? “Uh, do you want to meet in the library, or we could go-”

“The library is fine,” George smiled warmly, ears slightly pink. Dream had never looked at him this close. His brunette hair looked soft to the touch, but the younger boy would never try it. He swam under a dark green sweater, hands practicing a bear paw around the sleeves. Freckles scattered over his nose and cheekbones lightly like stars in a night sky, and Dream suddenly loved the idea of stargazing. “Nice sweatshirt. Are you going to that college?” George pointed down to the sweatshirt Dream was wearing.

“Uh, I don’t know yet.”

George hummed. “It’s a really good college. I toured there and loved the campus.”

“Where are you going to college?” Punz asked politely.

“Ann Arbor,” George smiled brightly, although the twinkle didn’t meet his eyes. “In Michigan. Don’t really like the cold, but I’ll get used to it. My parents are alumnis from Ann Arbor. I wanted to go to a college here.”

“That’s really cool,” Dream finally spoke, voice steady despite his leg shaking.

The senior threw a smile in his direction. “Thanks, it’ll be cool, I guess.” He swiped his hands on his jeans and stood up. Dream already missed him. “Well, sounds good, I just wanted to find you quick. I’m excited to work with you!” And then he had his back turned to Dream, and he was walking back to his own table.

Dream slammed his head into the lunch table, appetite gone. His three friends slapped him on the back and laughed in his direction. Sapnap moved to his regular seat next to Dream.

“Bro, what the fuck was that?” Punz criticized through cackles. “That was so awkward to watch!”

“He panicked!” Sam tried to defend Dream through giggles, rubbing Dream’s shoulder. “You did great, buddy.”

“I’m never speaking again,” Dream mumbled, face pressed against the lunch table.

He didn’t eat the rest of his lunch- but Sapnap ate what was left of it for him.

And when he snuck a glance at George’s table and saw George already looking at him with a small smile, Alex and Karl looking as well, Dream only shrunk into himself more.

\---

Dream tightened his grip on his backpack straps, squeezing through the crowd of students leaving for their rides home. Dream was not going home, however, he was going to an hour long tutoring session with George. George, George, George. Dream was shaking.

George was already in the library when Dream passed through the doors. He had never seen him in the library before, but now he was relishing in it. The afternoon sun shone through the windows, lighting George’s focused face like a porcelain doll. He had the eraser of a pencil in his mouth, studying text in a book.

Dream didn’t want to disrupt him. “Hi,” he softly spoke, setting his backpack down on the empty chair next to his side of the table.

George’s head whipped up with surprised eyes before recognition flashed. “Hey! Take a seat.” Dream sat across from him, and George shut his computer, paying complete attention to Dream. The younger’s leg was trembling. “So, I guess we can start on the unit for this upcoming test, right?”

Dream nodded. He took out his statistics notes filled with messy, confusing handwriting of not being able to keep up.

The brunette laughed and looked down to flip the pages of the textbook. Dream realized he was focusing on the material he would be teaching Dream. George murmured, “You’re not really a talker, are you?”

“I am.”

George slowly lifted his head, burning his eyes into Dream. The junior could’ve surged his hand if he held it to his face, feeling the burn in his cheeks. “Are you?” George touted.

Dream nodded.

“Then tell me something.”

“What?”

“If you’re such a talker, tell me something.” George smirked and twirled the mechanical pencil around his finger.

Dream stuttered, “Um, I-I like, um, well….”

George hummed. “Just as I thought. Well, Dream, it just looks as though--”

“I don’t know if I want to go to college.”

The senior put down his pencil. “Really?” When Dream shook his head, nervous, George smiled reassuringly. “You don’t have to go to college if it’s not right for you. What are you? A sophomore? Junior?”

“Junior.”

“Yeah! You still have another year before the soonest opportunity. My dad went to college when he was in his 30’s.” He was kind and smiled brightly, and Dream nearly swooned. “Are you nervous or something to have a tutor? It’s really nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Dream looked down at the chipped, wooden table and picked at it. “Stats is the only class I’m not good at. It sounds stuck up.”

“Not at all. Let me see your notes.”

George bit his bottom lip in concentration, eyes running over the messy handwriting and unfinished sentences. He started taking notes on his own piece of paper and flipping to random textbook pages and humming. Dream could only watch, rubbing his shoes together under the table nervously.

“I kind of understand the IQR stuff,” Dream said to fill the silence.

George didn’t look up from his scribbling. “How do you find the third quartile?”

Dream couldn’t answer.

George didn’t mention it. “Okay,” he lifted his notes and turned the paper to Dream. It was a detailed, organized plan of dates until the next exam- two weeks from that day. “I’m thinking we meet every other day. This is what we’ll be talking about each day, and you should be set for the next test.”

“This is so organized.”

The brunette smiled, cheeks turning rosey. “Thanks, I try. So, I’m thinking today we can start slow and talk about the different ways to visualize numerical data, okay?”

George leaned over the table and drew out the different ways to organize data. And Dream tried to focus, he really did, but it was difficult when the senior would sometimes look at him with curious, brown eyes, making sure he understood.

At the end of the lesson, George neatly put his binders and notebooks back where they belonged in his backpack, tucking the statistics textbook under his arm. “You did really good, Dream. I think you’ll be a pro mathematician in two weeks.”

The junior smiled. “Thanks, George. I’ll see you Friday?” When George nodded and whipped his keys around his finger, Dream couldn’t wait to learn more statistics if it meant it was coming from the cute, library’s assistant.

\---

George was starting to make a stop at lunch everyday for Dream.

It started professional- easy. He would talk about his plan for that day. On their off days, he would ask how the homework was coming along. Then, he started asking if Dream was going to finish his strawberry cup (Dream always gave it to him anyways), and he stopped by to compliment the blue shirt Dream was wearing.

Dream spent his open periods not at a table admiring George, but right next to George behind the librarian’s desk. He watched George do government homework and distracted him from physics.

It was strange. Dream went from not knowing anything about George besides his good looks and intelligence, to knowing George loved scrambled eggs day at lunch, and he only used .7 lead on his mechanical pencils.

It was two days before the next test, today being their last tutoring session, when Dream knew he had to do something.

“Here’s the plan,” Sapnap slammed his hands on the lunch table to get Punz to stop talking about his mile time and strategies. “If you ace this exam, you’ll never see George again.”

Sam shook his head. “Don’t even say what I think you’re going to say.”

Punz finished the thought, “You need to fail the test.”

“What?” Dream gasped, shoveling orange chicken into his mouth. “No, I need to pass this.”

“No,” Punz pressed. “You need to fail so George will teach you more.”

“He’s right.” Sapnap clinked his milk carton against Punz’s.

“He’s wrong!” Sam yelled, exasperated. “You could pass the exam and ask for George’s number or something.”

Yes, Punz and Sapnap were wrong. They were very, very, wrong. But it planted the seed in Dream’s head, which was the worst of all. What if George didn’t give out his numbers? What if George was just being friendly for the sake of not being awkward during lessons?

Later on in the day, George was showing Dream how to find the standard deviation. On Monday, George circled around the table and sat next to him to help figure out empirical data. He designated that spot everyday after that.

“Does that make sense?” George smiled.

Dream hummed. “So, you’re telling me I have to take the mean minus data point one, plus the mean minus data point two, plus the mean minus data point three, plus all of the data points minus the mean, square them all, divide it by the total data points, and then square root it?” He read over the steps George wrote for him in the corner of the page.

“Pretty much.”

“This is bullshit.”

George laughed a melodic laugh, tilting his head back, and kicked Dream’s foot under the table. Dream kicked back. “Dream! It’s not that hard, look.” He scribbled a problem and set the pencil down. “Find the standard deviation of these numbers.”

Dream tried to not pay attention that George’s shoe was still touching his.

“Hey, I was thinking,” George commented casually, leaning back while Dream worked his way through standard deviation. “You’ve been understanding a lot more and doing well, and your test is in three days. What if we celebrated after your exam?”

Dream paused typing on the calculator, looking at George with raised eyebrows. “Like a victory?”

“I know you’re going to ace it.”

“Yeah, sure, that’d be cool,” Dream spoke nonchalantly. “Hanging out, I mean.” He tried to sound as natural as possible. “Um, so- you know, it would be good to maybe give you my number. For after school, you know.”

“Oh!” George had wide eyes of remembrance. “Duh. Here, hand me your phone.” Dream’s hands trembled as he watched George put his contact in the phone. He handed it back, fingers brushing against each other. “So, Friday night?”

Dream nodded. He looked down at the phone, seeing ‘George :)’ in the contacts. “Also, if you’re not doing anything, could we maybe meet tomorrow? I want to review everything before the exam.”

A bright smile flashed across George’s face before he masked it to roll his eyes. “I guess so, for you, Dream.”

“Oh, come on. You love hanging out with me.”

George hummed, tapping the eraser of the pencil on his chin. Dream wanted to grab his chin and kiss the stupid smile off his face. “Sure,” he sarcastically laughed. “I love talking about skewed data with you.”

Dream shoved George’s small shoulder with his hand and scoffed. “You’re annoying.”

The senior rubbed his shoulder against Dream’s shyly, but Dream felt it. He felt the warm material of George’s white t-shirt against his long sleeve, and he practically drowned in it. They both hand their hands on the table, looking down at Dream’s attempt of solving standard deviation.

George reached over Dream’s arm to point out certain things, his arm partly resting on Dream’s. “Simple mistake here. Must have entered the numbers in the calculator wrong. The mean is thirteen, not sixteen.”

The blonde groaned loudly, rubbing his eyes with balled up fists. “This sucks.”

George rested his hand on Dream’s back, and he felt shivers rise up his neck. “But you knew how to do it! It was a silly mistake, Dream.” He poked Dream’s cheek, making a smile erupt. “I like it when you smile more.”

Dream’s smile could’ve guided ships home like a lighthouse in that moment.

\---

“You’re going to do great,” George cheered Dream on in front of the statistics classroom promptly on Friday, 12:48pm- two minutes before his exam. Students passed in the hallway, and voices were staggered in conversation, but the blonde was only focused on a certain brown-eyed boy.

Dream admitted, “I’m nervous. What if I forget anything?”

“What could you forget?”

“I don’t know, describing data?”

“You know that.”

Dream sighed, “I might forget.”

George grabbed Dream’s forearms and squeezed tightly. He didn’t let go. He didn’t let go. He didn’t let-- “Dream, you’ve been working really hard. Don’t psych yourself out.”

Dream nodded, and the bell rang. George wished him a final good luck. “See you tonight?” George called from halfway down the hall.

Dream peaked his head back out of the statistics classroom. “See you tonight.” He already missed the bright smile and honey eyes of George when he walked into the classroom.

“You feeling good about this, Dream?” Mr. Phil asked from the desk as Dream passed him to his spot.

“Yep!” Dream tried his best to smile. “Nervous.”

“You’ll be fine. George has been telling me how much you’re improving.”

Dream’s heart swelled up. He felt good. He knew the material, and it was all thanks to George. “Thanks. He’s really good at tutoring.” Mr. Phil winked in return, and Dream grabbed the test from him, getting started immediately in his seat.

Dream blacked out for most of the exam, but he did remember one thing: the first question asked him to describe the data of a histogram.

\---

Dream loved action movies. He loved eating buttery popcorn and sitting in the back row with his friends to make jokes the whole time. However, while George sat right next to him, and Dream could nearly feel the heat radiating off of the brunette, he was antsy to leave.

George was piling handfuls of the large popcorn they were sharing into his mouth, the movie shining directly through his shining eyes. He had his other hand on the armrest in between himself and Dream. A warm, cream sweater hugged him, comfortable sweatpants on as well. Cute, Dream thought. George was cute.

Dream coughed softly out of anxiety and put his arm on the armrest as well next to George’s. He felt the smaller arm against his and sucked in a breath, convincing himself it was a stupid idea to advance things. But then, George’s hand slowly moved closer to Dream before sliding underneath it, intertwining their fingers. Dream looked to George with shocked eyes, but George paid no attention, keeping his eyes on the movie.

His hand was warm. It was like coming home after a long day and wrapping the duvet around you. It was like soup on a cold day. It was like standing in a warm house watching snow fall. It was soft, too. Dream didn’t know how he went 17 years without knowing what George’s hand felt like.

He had to get out of there. George was rubbing small circles on the back of Dream’s hand. He couldn’t stand it.

“This movie sucks,” Dream leaned over and mumbled in George’s ear.

He snickered back quietly and threw a popcorn kernel at Dream. He opened his mouth to catch it, but it only hit his nose and fell to his lap. George leaned into Dream, “Wanna ditch?”

Dream nodded, and George let go of his hand to quietly grab his things. Dream wanted to hold it again. They stumbled down the stairs and were quietly giggling until Dream pushed the doors open and they were met with a warm, Friday night sky.

“FINALLY,” Dream hollered, stretching his arms wide and taking in the warmth.

George hiccuped in laughter, slapping Dream’s chest playfully. “Oh, stop! It wasn’t that bad.” He leaned over and grabbed Dream’s hand again, walking to the car he drove them in. Dream swung their hands back and forth, making George quietly bite his smile. Dream had butterflies. It felt amature; soft. He was soaring.

Once inside the car and buckled up, George turned the key in the ignition, turning Dream to ask, “Do you want to go home?”

He shook his head under the brunette’s soft stare. “No,” Dream whispered. “I want to go somewhere. Anywhere.” George nodded and turned back to the wheel, pulling out of the parking lot. Dream added quietly, “With you.”

George heard. He smiled.

Quiet music played in the background as the junior watched dark trees pass by. He tried to count how many he saw, but lost track once the speed limit increased. George’s hand was loosely placed in Dream’s, Dream playing with his fingers idly.

“How do you think you did on the exam?”

Dream didn’t want to talk about that. “I think it went well!”

George shot Dream a smile not worth any money in the world. “Well, you did have the very best teacher.”

“I guess.”

He parked in an empty lot. Dream peered outside of the window to see a river flowing softly. It rippled quietly against the quiet of the night. The night felt romantic and intimate to Dream, and he wanted to ask if George felt the same.

He couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“Are you coming?” George asked softly.

With each movement, Dream was careful and cautious, not wanting to make noise in the still. He was confused why George brought him to a river thirty minutes before midnight, but he followed him to the ledge. The water reflected in his dark eyes, creating oceans of life. Dream wanted to tell him how pretty looked. He kept his mouth shut, eyes on the water below.

Like a vase shattering the ground, George spoke: “My dad used to bring me here all the time to swim.”

The younger boy looked at George, but he was still watching the water below. He stepped up on the ledge, gripping the bars and leaning over to look down. Dream reached out in a panic and grabbed George’s waist. Although the older looked at him with surprise, and Dream blushed furiously, keeping his hands there for safe measure. Not because George’s skin was on fire, of course not.

“Used to? Why not anymore?”

George shrugged. “I got older. Moved on. Didn’t have time.” A beat of silence. “Now, I want more than anything to swim.” Another beat. What could Dream say? George shook his head, laughing quietly bitterly. “Now he’s the one who doesn’t have time.”

Dream pondered in thought. George has helped him so much, and Dream wanted to repay him. The blonde started tugging him to the stairs of the river where it seemed calmer. “I have all the time in the world, George.”

“What are you doing?”

“Let’s swim,” his voice was wild and daring amongst the quiet night, erupting any chance of complete silence.

George’s eyes widened and he yelped loudly in a giggle. “Shut up, you don’t mean that.”

Dream meant it.

So Dream took off his long sleeve and tugged the bottom of George’s hoodie, as well. George pulled it over his head in shy giggles. Dream had never seen George truly shy before. The younger boy toed off his shoes and his jeans, making the first move to cannonball into the water. George screamed loudly, covering his face to block a splash.

“Come on, pussy!” Dream shouted through his childish chuckles. “The water is warm.” And it was warm. Warm as a hug. Warm as George’s hand. Dream let himself float, softly rippling the water while letting his eyes scan over George’s pale, small frame.

George rolled his eyes, jumping out of his sweats and folding them neatly next to Dream’s articles of clothing. He carefully dipped himself into the water, doggy paddling up to Dream. His arms immediately wrapped around Dream’s neck, and a fire erupted inside of Dream when his hands were placed around George to hold him up.

“Hi,” George whispered playfully, looking down slightly. Water droplets hung on his eyelashes, and there was one sliding down his cheek as well. Dream took a thumb and wiped it off.

He whispered back, “Hey.”

“Thank you for doing this.”

“George…” he trailed off. He wanted to kiss him. So bad. Dream wanted to reach up behind George’s neck, pull him down, and finally be able to--

“You don’t have to say it,” George murmured, reading his thoughts and leaning in to connect their lips in a swift kiss. It was quick, gentle, and George’s fingers were causing river water to slide down Dream’s neck. The moon was full above them, stars twinkling, yet nothing in this moment felt more earthly than George’s lips on Dream’s.

Dream wasn’t ready for it to be over. When George pulled away with an innocent look in his eyes, and Dream could see his own reflection pulling George back down by his jaw, cradling it in his hand. George made a soft noise of surprise before leaning in fully, rubbing his tongue with Dream. Their noses bumped against each other as they leaned heads, trying to catch small breaths in between.

It was passionate, it was desperate. It was built up feelings begging to be released.

George smiled into the kiss, finally pulling away again. He pecked Dream one more time before holding up his hand. “My fingers are pruny.”

“Let’s get out.”

Their movements were more fluid now, intertwined. Handing each other their clothes, Dream rubbing George’s hair dry with his long sleeve, and stolen kisses with George pressed up against his car.

“I need to get you home,” George tried to speak through kisses against Dream’s lips, laughing giddily. “Dreammmm,” he dragged out.

Eventually Dream let him drive him home, all while playing with his fingers in the car. When George parked in front of Dream’s house, he left one final, soft, lazy kiss with Dream and told him, “I want to see you again.”

He told George, “I can’t wait to see you again,” and then Dream really, really, regretted what he did in statistics class earlier that day.

\---

It was different this time. Mr. Phil was at his desk, Dream sat across with slumped shoulders, and now George sat next to Dream, arms crossed. The newly graded test sat in front of the two high schoolers, red marking littering the pages.

“Another F?” Mr. Phil was disappointed. “Really?”

George was shocked, posture straight. “What?” He grabbed the test, reading over the incorrect questions. “There is no way!”

Dream couldn’t say anything. He shouldn’t have listened to his friends. Sapnap and Punz gave him a thought of George not wanting to see Dream after he didn’t need help, and Dream panicked. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t know what happened.”

George was silent, eyebrows furrowed as he read over the exam. He looked confused, sparing glances at Dream every now and then. Dream avoided his gaze.

“Maybe we should try someone different?” Mr. Phil wondered to himself. “I don’t even know who else is better--”

“No!” Dream argued, throwing his arms out. “Please. George is a great tutor. Please allow one retake, and I’ll promise I’ll be better.” George was looking at him questionably. “I just choked, I think.”

Mr. Phil squinted his eyes, trying to read Dream, before focusing on George. “George? What do you think? I’ll give you three days to help him.”

George looked at Dream silently, biting his lip in thought. Dream was staring at him with pleading, emerald eyes. George sighed, “Yeah, give us a couple days.”

After explaining the plan and Mr. Phil handed George the test for him to review, the two boys were left outside in the hall alone together. It was before school on that warm Monday morning, and students were slowly piling into the hallways before the first bell.

“Dream.” George accusingly asked, eyes skimming the page. They walked idly in the hallway, shoulders brushing against each other. Dream kept his head down. “What are the steps in describing data?”

His voice was simply a mutter: “Shape, outliers, center, and spread.”

“Dream,” the same tone, “what is the IQR?”

“Minimum, quartile one, median, quartile three, maximum.”

“Dream--”

Dream stopped in the middle of the hallway. “I get it, okay? I fucked up.”

The senior pulled Dream into a separate hallway vacant from any others, near the gym. It felt oddly intimate and secretive. “What were you thinking?” George harshly whispered, holding up the paper. “You know all of this stuff!”

Dream didn’t know what to say. He wanted to spend more time with him? He was scared George was only being friendly with him so it wouldn’t be awkward? But then, they had Friday night under the stars... Dream’s fingertips still burned from George’s skin.

George asked again, this time more quietly, “Why did you fake failing?”

“I like you,” Dream mumbled. When George squinted because he couldn’t hear, Dream repeated more loudly, “I like you, alright? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

George was quiet.

“I’ve liked you,” the junior continued, “a lot. Like, a lot a lot. And I wanted to spend more time with you.”

George let out a sharp, surprised laugh before he looked around, tugging the hoodie sleeve Dream was wearing into the boys locker room to the right of them. He pushed Dream against a locker, and Dream felt his back burn vaguely, but he didn’t mind. George’s hands were tangled in Dream’s hair, and Dream had his arms wrapped around the smaller boy’s waist.

And then their lips were rubbing against each other desperately, letting small breaths and noises in between kisses. Dream leaned forwards, pushing himself into George as far as he could to flush their chests against each other. The metal of the gym locker was digging into his back, and he saw stars when his eyes shut from the feeling in his limbs.

“Is it,” George whispered between kisses, “so crazy-” another kiss- “that I might-” he whimpered when Dream softly bit his lip- “like you back?”

Dream pulled away, panting softly. George was breathing heavily as well, chocolate eyes blinking slowly. Lust seeped into his veins like warm honey, and he relished in the feeling. “A little bit,” he admitted.

George rolled his eyes. “I thought I made it obvious. I mean, I literally made out with you on Friday.”

“That was after I took the exam!”

“Well.” George traced Dream’s cheekbone with his finger. “I like you a lot a lot, too.”

The teenagers with PE as first period started piling into the men’s locker room to change, so Dream and George separated quickly. He already missed the soft skin from George’s shirt riding up, and he wanted to touch him again.

“You were stupid,” George laughed, collecting himself as the locker room started filling up.

“I know.” His face was burnt red. George’s didn’t look much different. Dream wanted to kiss him again. He blushed even harder knowing George probably wanted to kiss him, too.

“I’ll tutor you before the retake, but just know, there will actually be studying going on.”

\---

God, could George kiss.

Dream had his back against George’s headboard, his cheeks slightly squished by George cradling his face tightly. The senior had his legs on either side of Dream’s body, leaning over him. Teenage hormones circled around them, making George rub his knee in between Dream’s sweatpant covered legs.

Dream groaned, pulling away. “George, you’re going to kill me.” He caught his breath, head resting on the headboard. George was leaning back now, playing with the strings of Dream’s hoodie. “Your parents are literally downstairs.”

George shrugged with a playful smirk, lips swollen from being kissed. “You were studying so hard. You needed a break.”

Dream looked at his backpack, thrown into a corner and unopened, and deadpanned back at George. He swung his legs off of Dream and walked to the other corner of his room where his backpack was, digging through to grab the folder with Dream’s marked up test.

They hadn’t spent the three days given exactly studying. Most of the time was spent in George’s bedroom upstairs with their hands on each other’s body. But, now Dream had to take the test tomorrow for the last time, and George wanted to make sure he knew everything.

George sat back on the bed, this time against the wall. His feet were tucked under Dream’s covered legs for warmth. “Categorical or numerical, okay? Histogram.”

“Numerical.”

“Pie chart?”

“Numerical.”

“Bar graph?”

“Categorical.”

“Stem and leaf plot?”

“What are we going to do when you graduate?”

Silence. Dream tried to burn his gaze into George, silently begging him to look, but George kept his eyes on the marked up exam. “Stem and leaf plot,” he repeated with a nervous voice.

Quietly: “Numerical.”

The senior cleared his throat and set the paper down. Dream watched him patiently, carefully reaching out to put a comforting hand on his kneecap. The soft material of George’s sweatpants comforted Dream, and he traced shapes in the cloth.

George suddenly crawled off his bed, sneaking underneath the bed to grab a small vanilla folder. He rummaged inside quietly before taking out an envelope and handing it to Dream. With furrowed brows, Dream looked at the envelope: a letter from Ann Arbor.

George was watching intently, on his knees on his bedroom floor. Dream was sat up in the bed still.

The letter whispered Holy Grails to Dream as he read the letter in response to George’s decline to attending Ann Arbor. Dream couldn’t get past the first sentence, stating George’s decision, before looking down at him with wide eyes.

“You…” he trailed off. “What?”

George bit his lip, trying to hide his smile. “My parents don’t know yet.”

Dream still didn’t have words. “But- you- but- what?” He dropped the letter on the bed and crawled off the bed to wrap his arms around George’s waist, nuzzling his head in his neck on the floor. The brunette’s giggles were melodies and hums in Dream’s ear, and he left soft kisses at the crook of his neck. “Why did you decline?” He whispered into his neck.

He could feel George shrug against him, panting slightly from his laughs. His arms were loosely around the blonde’s neck, absentmindedly toying with his wavy hair. “Never wanted to go to Ann Arbor,” he said with his chin perched on Dream’s shoulder. Dream rubbed his nose against the older’s neck. “I like the programs here.”

“So, you’re going to Tampa?”

He felt George nod.

“As in an hour away?”

George nodded again. Dream pulled away from his neck to look into his honey eyes intently, leaning down to give him a sweet kiss. George pulled away, murmuring, “Plus, I didn’t want to leave my boyfriend.”

At that, Dream’s eyes widened. His heart stilled, and the world stopped turning. “Boyfriend?”

“If you want.” George was shy, face tinted a beautiful pink that made his freckles stand out.

It was everything Dream had wanted since the fall semester when he saw George with his nose close to a computer behind the librarian’s desk. Everything since Mr. Phil offered a tutor, mentioning the senior’s name. It was everything he had wanted since he turned around at the lunch table and saw George standing over him with a cute smile, hand tucked into his jeans.

“I want.”

\---

The next day, George sat outside the hallway of the statistics classroom the entire hour and forty-five minutes it took Dream to complete the exam. His ass ached from sitting on the floor, but it was worth it when Dream peaked out of the classroom to interrupt his studies.

“He’s grading it now if you want to come in,” Dream spoke nervously.

George let Dream pull him up, giving a kiss to his palm before they dropped hands and sat next to each other in the small desks. Every once in awhile Mr. Phil made a mark, which made Dream sigh, and George tapped his foot against Dream’s as comfort.

In silence, Mr. Phil wrote a letter at the top of the page and circled it multiple times in red marker. George’s breath hitched in his throat, he couldn’t imagine how Dream felt.

Mr. Phil turned the exam around, letting the boys see Dream’s new grade, all thanks to George, his boyfriend’s, help.

A-.


End file.
